Never Made It
by EvanescentBeauty
Summary: CHAPTER 2! The year is 1971, and 29 year old Knox Oversteet has married Chris. Unfortunately, their marriage is far from a fairy tale, but an unprompted visit from an old friend brings memories rushing back. Can Knox ever remember who he truly used to b?
1. Life As I Know It

**A/N:** Hey! It's EvanescentBeauty, here to let you know a little bit about this story, and it's future.

I am a very unpredictable person, but have become even more unpredictable, especially now that I'm in high school. I never know how much homwork I'll be getting, and as many of my readers will have realized (especially those of "Spilled Cranberry Juice") I have been _very _slow in updates. I play on finishing "Colors" first, just because I have most of the ending written already.

I hope to make this story a good one, but I plan on making the chapters rather short, just because that's how it'll work out. I hope that's not too much of a problem.

* * *

It was raining.

_Again_.

_It __**never**_..._stops_..._ raining_...

The car door slammed shut as Knox grumpily departed from his car, breifcase in hand, to his front door. Another day of humidity and rain... of clammy faces and sweaty brows. Of monotonous banking procedures and...

...He opened the front door...

...and no wife waiting for him with a hot meal.

Now, he realized that he wanted his wife to have her free time, but after a long day from 6 in the morning to 6 at night, he expected a little bit of a "welcome home" gesture, as she was the one staying home all day. A hot meal, a comfy chair--No, no, God forbid should anything of that sort be of normalcy in this home. All of his co-workers -- not that he socialized with them -- had made it clearly known how dutifully their wives doted upon them... how they couldn't wait to get home to a meal of meat and potatoes and a cigarette and a blaring television. No, he came home to an empty, dusty, dirty house... how many vodka bottles had Chris knocked back before realizing that she had wiped their stores clean? How many packs until she realized she could get some for free at the local bar, or from another man? How long till she realized that she didn't have to wait till 6 o' clock that night to get her "satisfaction", if you will?

He walked into the kitchen and opened up the pantry. Grumpily, he grabbed a can of soup and tossed it into a pan, watching the luke-warm liquid begin to boil under the intense heat of the burners.

Her timing was impeccable.

Chris burst through the door. She held multiple bags of food.

"Chris?" called Knox, walking out into the living room.

"Hello, Knoxy," she cood. "Could you give me a help with all of this?"

Knox grabbed half of the bags she was holding and carried them into the kitchen with her.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I wanted to cook you something real nice for dinner, so I went out to stock up again... but I just wasn't quick enough, I suppose."

Knox, however, highly doubted that Chris had been out buying food. More than couple of the bags were filled with beer bottles.

"Chris...?" asked Knox. Chris grabbed the bottles fiercely, her eyes crackling.

"What?" she snapped. "Isn't a girl allowed to have some alcohol every once in a while? God, Knox... with you hanging over my shoulder every minute of every day, it's gets exhausting to have a life!"

"I didn't--" he began, distraught.

"Why don't you just let me have my fun?" cried Chris. "For God's sake, Knox..."

"I'm sorry!" he snapped finally. "Good lord, I didn't even say anything!"

"Well, you were going to," she growled moodily.

"Look," said Knox, rubbing his forehead as Chris packed the rest of the bags away. "Where have you been going these past few days? You're never here when I get home..."

"Oh... out," she replied simply. "I really don't see how my personal life has anything to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me!" cried Knox.

"Yes, because it's all about you."

"I didn't say that, and you know that's not what I meant. We're husband and wife, we should be sharing things with each other!"

"Sometimes I just don't feel like it. You never tell me about your day."

"I'm... a banker! I didn't think that would interest you..." he replied meekly.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way," she snapped. "Now, if you will please leave me alone, you can enjoy your soup in peace!"

She stormed out of the kitchen, leaving a distressed Knox all alone.

He kicked the side of the oven angrily. He ignored the pain in his toe and instead hurried to the drawers where he pulled out a sharp knife. Angrily, he placed the cold blade to his forearm and made a shallow, firm cut. He felt the usual rush of pleasure as the endorphines spread all over his body... it was the most wonderful feeling. No longer could it be satisfied by Chris. He'd been cutting himself for a while, but it wasn't like it mattered. Nothing mattered. His entire life had been about Chris Noel. Now, she was Chris Overstreet, but life was worse than it had ever been.

Slightly silenced, Knox ran water over the blade, placed it into the dishwasher, and went quietly to bed.

The soup lay untouched.


	2. The Call

Chapter 2: The Call

Knox Overstreet used to remember the days when he would wake up like he was writing his own story. He would open his eyes and drink in everything new about his surroundings, even if there was nothing new at all. He would look out the window to see if it was raining, or if it was sunny... or if it was overcast. If the ground was wet with an evening shower, or dry, showing him that a a hot day was in store for him. He would wake up exhausted, or sometimes he would think, "Well, today's not so bad." Sometimes he would just wake up in a bad mood... or he'd wake up crying from a bad dream. Whatever had happened, it was a million times better than how waking up was now. Now, all he could see about his life was "Waking up." He opened his eyes, and that was it. He no longer cared whether it was sunny or rainy... whether it was hot or cold. He would wear the same clothes to work anyway, so what did it really matter anyhow? However, in the past few days, it hadn't just been "waking up". It had been "waking up alone." Chris worked downtown for a little newspaper that ran for their little town. It didn't pay much, but Knox could suffice for the both of them. Most of the time, he woke up alone. Christ was never there. Her bed was neatly made up on her side. The covers were tucked in, the sheets lay cold (signaling she had been gone for quite some time) and the little forget-me-not blue pillow lay neatly placed in front of the large white pillow. It was on these days, which, unfortunately, were the majority of the days, that Knox felt truly alone.

And so, it was on that dull, gray Tuesday that Knox Overstreet "woke up".

He climbed out of bed (not caring), put on his coat and tie (not caring), and ate breakfast (still not caring). He was five feet away from the little coatrack that sat by the door, which held his hat and overcoat, when the phone rang.

Now Knox knew that it was very odd for anyone to be calling this early, but he figured that because it was odd, it was either something very good or very bad. So, he walked briskly to the phone and picked it up.

"Knox Overstreet," he said politely.

"Knox?"

"Yes?"

The voice... oh that voice... Knox had heard it before. It was achingly familiar, as though he had heard it too much, and yet he was yearning to hear it again, just so he could pinpoint it, name it, and then tell it to go away and stop calling him. But the weird feeling was, was that he knew that he hadn't heard this voice in quite some time, and it gave him a slightly melancholy feel. It was not a nice feeling overall, and he was now feeling rather regretful that he had picked up the phone at all.

"Knoxious?"

And then it hit him. Only one person in the entire world had called him Knoxious. It had only been during one period in his life. And he hadn't seen this person in eleven years.

"Charlie Dalton?"

"Hey buddy, what's going on!"

A large grin broke out onto Knox's face. Of course. Who else could it be to call at such a rude time?

"Charlie! I can't believe... I mean--It's great to hear from you! How _are _you?"

"I'm doing fine, man... how are you?" exclaimed Charlie.

"I'm great! So... what have you been up to this past _decade_?"

Charlie laughed. It was a nice sound.

"Oh, you know... same old same old."

"Look, Charlie... I am SO sorry, man...but I have to get to work. Hey why don't we meet up for lunch, say 'round one-ish?" asked Knox.

"Sounds great, man! I'll see you then! Where do you want to go?"

"The Fisher Deli down on fifth. You know where that is, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll find it."

"Great!"

"I'll be seeing you, then!"

"Alright, great!"

"Bye!"

"Goodbye, Charlie."

It was this conversation that made Charlie bounce off to work in a much happier mood than he had in eleven years.


End file.
